


Taciturn Confession

by Evenseven



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad English, M/M, No Beta, POV First Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Slightly Alternative Universe, Top!steven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 23:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19328701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenseven/pseuds/Evenseven
Summary: “The eyes of others are our prisons; their thoughts our cages.”





	Taciturn Confession

**Author's Note:**

> This ship will never sink!!!

We meet up in Southern California in a sunny day at the end of July, I’m with the team’s summer training session, he’s on a business trip. It takes only one call and a few texts to get him knocking on the door of my hotel room this morning, I open the door instantly and greet him with a proper warm smile, hoping I don’t look like I’ve been waiting impatiently at the door this whole time. He doesn’t seem to notice anything suspicious on my facial expression when he walks into the room and closes the door with the back of his hand, looking so natural like he’s done the same thing for a thousand times, we’ve done the same thing for a thousand times.

Xabi is in his normal business outfit, precisely tailored navy blue suits and snow white shirt with the top button casually open, showing just enough bit of his collarbones where the skin is slightly paler. Once he is inside, he has his arms around my shoulder and hugs me silently. God how much I miss this, I miss the sensation of promptly shaved beard tickling my chin, I miss his cologne scent of oak and espresso, I miss the way his pink thin lips move and form my name with a mixed and charming accent, I miss all of this.

I kiss him on the lips once his arms get off me, I can’t stand any second longer without that familiar taste, feeling his soft lips on mine and gingerbread stubbles against my jaw. It took me a long while and an actual fight to get used to the sensation of someone else’s beard tickling my skin, back in the time when we were both young and stubborn. It is not that bad after all, his kiss was no longer passionate like we had no tomorrow to live, instead most of the time he is gentle and elegant, rough and mellow at the same time. After all these years, he had become the kind of gentlemen the public wanted him to be, which used to be no more than a pale image and others’ imagination. We all changed throughout time and history, but he was never like this from the beginning and ought to never be so. Yet here he is, maintaininghis perfectly polite smile all the time, calculating every single word before he even dares to tell a soul. I could never complain about what he had become, I could never really dislike anything about him, he had his way into my heart so long ago and the emotion is buried so deep down, sometimes I can’t even recognize how much I need him, while I’m physically craving for him all the time. It’s just sometimes I miss those reckless emotions of him back in the old days, of myself, of all the ups and downs we went through together and separated.

“The eyes of others are our prisons, their thoughts our cages.” Those had been his exact words back then, apparently quoting some English writer I had no idea who that is. But he spoke the truth, we all live in the cages of others, we would never be able to escape no matter how hard we try.

We spend five hours sitting in the corner of the hotel cafe chatting casually, exactly like how two long separated old friends would do when they reunited. Whatever we pretend to be, we are both doing an excellent job. I update him with some recent Liverpool news and about our mutual friends, he tells me what he learned about club managing business and the new book he is reading. We didn’t talk much about work, like two close colleagues wouldn’t talk about paperworks and projects when they grab a drink later the night after work. We have enough of that in our daily life already, now is almost the only time to get away from everything, before the busy autumn starts. The whole five hours of conversation, not even a single soul comes to disturb us, which is just delightful and exactly why I love the sunshine here so much. We could’ve met at the other end of the world, but it’s so hard to get away anywhere else near home, specially after Liverpool just won the Champion’s League. I get spotted all the time around Europe, I guess it’s the same for him, consider how much all the teams love to spend their summer trainings in Spain.

Xabi is sipping on his third espresso when I saw the corner of his mouth twists just a little like he’s biting down the lower lip from inside, he caresses the base of his right middle and ring finger,a very delicate sign implies a specific desire. I know what that particular sign is, he wants a cigarette, but the whole dinning area is a smoke free zone. He had developed this hobby throughout these years as a coping mechanism for anxiety and all the other emotions. He was never good at hiding emotions at first, yet he trained himself like a proper solider and succeed. However, when he has concerns and chaotic thoughts in his head he couldn’t get over with from time to time, he would want a cigarette to calm himself down and help him thinking. I can’t say I agree with him but he seems to be more relaxed and tranquil after a smoke. I’m not the one to judge him, but the first time I saw him breathing out the smoke like a natural, my jaw dropped to the ground. I remember opening my mouth ready to scold, then I saw his eyes behind the floating smoke, his always warm and starry caramel eyes now soaking wet, the usual intuitive sparks behind the chestnut shade had all died out. “Stevie,” he had said with a quivering voice, “I can’t stay here any longer, they want to sell me for real.”

That day I learned to never judge him doing whatever he thinks is the best, it remains the same even when he finally left me, this time no turning back or a goodbye kiss. We all need our life vests, while I can’t offer him one, he has to find his own way to defense against the long-lasting darkness.

“We should go back.” I offer quietly looking at his folded arms on the coffee table. He left his suit in my room, the only shirt he’s wearing now outlines his biceps well. He does not gain any weight after retirement like I thought he would, on the contrary, he even looks more skinny than before. He lost some muscles on his legs and no longer has abs, but he keeps fit even when he does not work out so much as when he was a professional. Anyway, I’m sure he has a pack of cigarette inside his pocket or somewhere, I don’t mind if he smokes in my room.

Compare to that, I would rather him telling me what is bothering him so much that he needs a fag to keep calm, but if a five-hour long conversation can’t convince him to confess, I don’t think a few more words from me can.

He accepts the offer with only a nod, standing up and walking back to the elevator quietly.

I thought he would go fetch a fag once we got back inside the hotel room, instead he walked to the bedside table and grabbed something that was no where near a cigarette. He turns back and looks at me in the eyes: “Stevie, I want you.”

Well, what am I to turn down such request?

We never like to waste time when it comes to sex, mostly because we didn’t have much time back in the days. So I start to strip off my comfortable sports clothes after I gave him a quick nod. By the time we reach the soft hotel mattress, we are both naked from head to toes.

I kiss him hard on the lips again, this time with more force. His mouth opens slightly to suck on my lower lip, I can’t recognize the obscene sound is made by him or me. My hands reach to his light maple curls covered chest, feeling his beating heart falls into the same rhythm as mine; his hands are on the back of my neck, I can feel his fingertips caress the hairline behind my redden ears. I keep my hair short and tidy these days, he told me once in the phone that he like how I look right now, “like a proper successful business man.”

His hands soon land on my bare shoulder and push me to sit down on the bed with force, he plants his knees firmly besides my thighs and he is half sitting on my lap now. His movement is so smooth and natural like professionals, didn’t even break the kiss through the whole process. It is me who finally breaks the kiss to catch a breath, just at the split second I tip up my head to get some distance, his lips are back on my neck and planting small kisses on where should be my windpipe.

I haven’t seen Xabi so eager for such a long time now I almost forgot what it feels like, still it’s a bit different today, he is in some sort of rush to continue the intimate actions, but not even a slight bit of rough and anxious like those times before. I can’t tell what he has in mind, which is not a surprising thing for me to say, but after all these years together, I thought I’ve seen every sides of him now, inside and outside, blissed and depressed. He has something important in his mind right now, he is trying to cover it up with all those mechanisms, smoking, drinking, making love, avoiding the topic…

I never asked much about his inner world, for the reason that I believe he needs peace more than anything when we’re not under the spotlight. He probably thinks I’m stupid or too ignorant to notice his little problems, but I am not. We have mutual respect for each other, and keep the distance unchanged, that’s why we never break up, not even after a heated argument outburst that almost got us into an actual fight. I wouldn’t say I know him the best in the world, partly because I don’t speak much of his language, he tried to teach me once, but I was to distracted by my Spanish teacher’s beautiful lips, still I know him well enough to say whatever he has in mind now is something serious and he just couldn’t let go.

“Xabi…” I was thinking if I ask him now would it ruin the mood, but he didn’t even look interested in talking. His right hand moves to my half-mast manhood and starts to plump it with some clear liquor gel, he hands me the already open plastic tube to my hand and simply says: “Help me with this.”

Well, it doesn’t look like I have a choice ey?

So I squeeze out some more of the lube in my hand to warm it up, with his breathes shorten and muscles flexed, my index finger find the dark valley at the base of his spine and carefully massage the ring muscle behind dark curls. It doesn’t take him much time to relax and take my finger in, I guess he’s really tying to cooperate, or more like rush, so he set mental objective to force himself cooperate physically. I can feel his inside clenches on my finger not long after I slide in one more, he’s taking it so well and I’m hard as rock just seeing him working so hard like this.

Still, there’s a voice inside me tells me not to ignore a thing that’s so obvious. Seeing him like this is erotic as well as scary, he’s living on the edge now, but with responsibilities, which makes the whole thing even more scary. I would be terrified if he asks me to choke him right now, but he would be demanding more than pleading, tell me all the unrelated excuses and how he has everything under control.

Thank God he didn’t ask that, but I just put in the third finger, he’s already impatient at the preparation and uses his knees as leverage to lift up his hip, so my wet fingers slide out easily. “What are you…” I have no idea what he’s planning to do, but he bends down his head to kiss me on my cheekbone softly, pure and calming like a mother would give to her child before bed.

“Trust me, Stevie, I got this.” That’s all he said before he has one hand holding the base of my cock up still, and slowly sitting down on it. Well, if I wasn’t so hesitate just now, I would enjoy his initiative and confidence so much more.

I’m not sure it’s much better than asking me to choke him, but he takes me in with only a few silent gasps. He did what he said, he got this, he had everything under control. His beautiful long legs folded next to my hands so I run a hand to feel the bare skin of his thigh, his skin is always a bit paler than me, and he may lost some muscles, but the stunning lines of the heatedskin and kneecaps remains me of how magical his legs used to be.

His arms are back to embrace my shoulder now trying to catch a breath, I can do nothing to comfort him but only lower my head to lick on that dark nipples of his. I know he likes this, although he never really asks me to do it, but every time he arches his back and offers that pair of aroused nipples to me, I know exactly what he wants me to do. So I rub his left nipple with my lips, making sure he sees how I lick it with my tongue, and finally bit down zealously to advocate a low moan from him.

He seems to recover from the stun quickly, because I didn’t even have time to attend the other nipple, he starts to move his hip and rides me leisurely. I don’t know exactly how he feels about this, but no matter how many times we had sex before, he is tighter than anyone I’ve ever fucked, and that never changes. Now he’s driving me crazy clenching around me like that, not to mention the scene before me looks so obscene and sancta at the same time.

I have a million thoughts in my head, questions and doubts, satisfaction and pride, but not a word I can actually form right now when he’s riding me like a fucking bull. My right hand finds his erection between us and gives it a few forceful strokes, from the base to the tip, I want him to cum at this position, only because he looks so hot and stunning just eating me up and down twisting his waist. But he grabs my right hand and moves it to cover his buttocks, obviously not wanting me to touch his cock any more. I can’t understand his purpose but my hand sticks onto his round and full cheeks instantly, feeling the soft skin there and printing red marks all over the rumps.

The thrusting feels smoother now when his muscle relax a bit and I could finally pick up the movement, sitting up like this makes the shoving more difficult, but I manage to grab his cheeks with both hands, plant my thighs firmly to the soft milky mattress, bucking up my hip while holding him down to meet the first real thrust deep inside him.

We both groan at the intimate sensation and I can see his cheekbones light up with a bright pink shade, a dozen more thrusts and he forms a high-pitch noise that can only be heard during sex. I know I must have hit the sweet spot inside him, so I try to shove toward the same direction I just did. If I would be honest, riding doesn’t happen often during our times of sincerely love makings or causal shagging, mostly because it requires a lot of efforts from both of us, and again, we never have much time, but this position seems to always find his sensitive spot and it’s astonishing for me to see him cumming only by taking it up the arse.

“Stevie! More…” Xabi was never too vocal during sex, but today he’s quieter than usual, so I guess I must have wandered away for nothing now he has to call out my name to get me back on track. I remain silent once again and grab his backside with more strength, making sure there would be enchanting red marks left on the skin, and speed up to a rather rapid pace.

A few more hits on the target are enough to make him become docile under my embrace, his back arches to a beautiful angle and gasps out hot breathes. His thighs start to give out and finally I have full control back again, thrusting hard and deep into him and making him moan like no other could.

“Stevie! Ah, I’m close…ugh! More…” And he’s asking for more like a proper whore, I know he’s never a shameless slut, but seeing him like this, biting down his lip to swallow back obscene moans, caramel pupils slightly blown due to the sexual pleasure, and struggling the back of my hair like a drowning man fighting for the last breath…All of this, it just makes my cock wants to explode in no time.

I thrust deep inside him almost violently, hearing his moaning suddenly becomes close to a sob, I kiss his heated ear with my lips and mumble: “So good for me, Xabi, come for me, only me…”

I should probably go for something more creative, but at this point I can’t care about words and decency any more, this is the only thought left in my head: I have him, he belongs to me and only me.

So he did, spilling all of it between us and his hole clenching even harder which makes me all gone at almost the same time. I make a few more thrusts and cum all inside him as well, groaning like some sort of wild beasts, filling him up with my hot sperm.

Xabi has his arms around me and his quivering body crashes down in my embrace, I lie down on the bed slowly, but it’s so difficult for me to actually relax when his heated tunnel still clenches me reflexly. I kiss him on he neck, but his closed eyelids show that he’s too far gone in the bliss to actually react to anything.

It was an amazing sex, I’m not complaining anything, but the only rational thought left in my brain is that I have a problem in hand regarding to this beautiful Spaniard in my arms.

“Xabi,” I say after we both silently breathing for a while to calm down, and I can still hear the husk in my own voice, “Could you please tell me what’s bothering you now?”

The brunette head rested on me stirs and looks up with a pair of confused eyes, he raises his torso to let me slide out of him involuntarily, then crashes down again next to me with a slight frown between his eyebrows.

“Nothing,” His voice sounds even more husky than mine, “nothing to be worried about, Stevie.”

And that’s a fucking lie.

I raise up to roll off the used condom and throw it away in the bedside rubbish bin, I grab some paper napkins to clean up the mess on our stomachs, when he suddenly turns away from me.

“What is it? Xabi, I’m really concerning now.” I wish he could just listen to me once and tell me everything, but that wouldn’t be Xabi Alonso any more would he?

“It’s nothing,” He sighs, I can’t see his face, yet I can feel a tiny emotion crack in his voice, “I miss you, that’s all.”

“Well if you miss me,” I’m nor sure how I feel about all of this, “you should be looking at me right now, instead of turning away.”

Xabi pauses for a second, then slowly turns back and looks at me in the eyes. He still looks wasted and peaceful after the sex, but there is a storm hidden inside his caramel eyes.

“Things have been…” He bites down his lip again, “I don’t know, I thought we would have more time after retirement, but it only seems to get us further apart.”

My heart seriously aches for a moment, not sure how to response. His face doesn’t look sad or depressed in any way, just…disappointed. I don’t know what kind of crises is getting into him now, but he shouldn’t be worried about this in any way.

Can’t he see? Can’t he feel my heart, my devotion, my love after all these years?

Of course he can, he just lives in the image of others’ expectations for so long that he forgot how we built all of the affection, not as two lonely soldiers drifting in darkness, but together. He was never the emotionless, brave, and completely rational being like all others claim him to be.

He is my Xabi, my sweet Spanish explorer, always curious and passionate about the things he does, the people he loves, and the feeling he has. He is himself, and none of the outsiders could ever distort or steal away from me.

I love him, for all of himself, and all the efforts he made to meet the expectation, thought they never deserve even a tiny slice of him.

So I reach out my hand to cup his sharp cheekbone and jawline, looking directly back to his half burning half soaking gaze.

“The eyes of others are our prisons, their thoughts our cages.” I understand all of it now, how he was struggling all these years, why his eyes were watery when he first told me this quote, “And no matter what, Xabi Alonso, I love you, more than anything else in the whole wild world.”

He paused for a moment without a word, then the gloomy expression covers his face all these time was gone. He smiles softly and leans towards me to press a gentle kiss on my lips, where again I taste the mild scent of oak and espresso. His mouth opens, I can almost hear the words that about to slip out, yet he controls everything back with his rational side.

I don’t mind, after all these years, I well knew when he’s close to emotional breakdowns, and why should I not push it too hard to break him. Anyway, I know what he wants to say already, so I have no problem enjoying the secret pride all to myself.

“Stevie,” Instead he says, “how lucky I am to be able to have you…I can only dream.”

No, you gingerbread idiot, I would reply, I am the one that’s so lucky to dream of you and your beautiful eyes, of having you all for myself in my embrace, of knowing you more than anyone else, more than any lies and imagination others could have based on a never-existing image. How lucky I am to know the real football gentleman, with the passionate and intuitive boy inside, who devotes his love with all heart and faith. We might never say the three-word phrase to each other ever again, yet we know we are inseparable from soul to body, heart to brain, dream to reality.

**Author's Note:**

> Quote from Virginia Woolf.  
> I'm not a native speaker so I apologize for my bad English writing.


End file.
